AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
There's a small time jump for each section. There is also a brief mention of miscarriage for anyone who needs that warning.
I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!
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It didn't take too long for Daryl and Carol to find some signs of towns as they moved. Carol didn't know what they were looking for, exactly, but she trusted Daryl to know.
She trusted Daryl.
Daryl's initial appearance was, on the whole, frightening. Her whole life, Carol had been told stories of mountain men and the things that they would do to women. As a child, even, there were stories that she remembered hearing that had circled around mountain men and children who wouldn't behave themselves being pulled right on out of their wagons or their beds—probably fed to bears, if the mountain men didn't eat them themselves.
Daryl, however, wasn't like that at all. He was, oddly enough, the roughest man that Carol had ever met and, yet, also the gentlest.
Carol's own father had been a fairly gentle man. In fact, from what Carol understood from the memories that she hadn't realized would be significant at the time, it might have been her father's overall gentility that had caused her family some troubles. Looking back, he hadn't been good at the things that he'd needed to be good at to keep them going and, since her mother had been bad at giving him boy children that would really suit his needs, he had nobody to help him get out of the hole.
Carol hadn't minded, really, that her parents had given her over to Ed. At least, she hadn't minded at first. As she'd understood it, really, he'd given her father some of the money that he'd needed for some debts that he'd owed and, in exchange, he'd gotten himself a wife. Carol had been pretty pleased to know that her family might be better off than they had been, and she'd seen the exchange as an act of generosity on Ed's part. Now, of course, when she slept near Daryl in the cave-like shelters and such that they found while moving, Carol realized that she may have thought that because Ed had told her it was the way she ought to think. He'd often told her that she hadn't been worth the money that he'd given her father. He'd really accepted the sorry end of the deal, getting only her for a bride.
Carol was plain. She was almost ugly, but there was enough about her that it could keep Ed's interest long enough to get him over the need to bed a woman. As his wife, she'd been expected to keep her body on offer to him, though he'd made it clear that—offered or not—he would have what he expected to have. She wasn't any good at satisfying Ed's needs—and he'd told her that in no uncertain terms—but she was tolerable when necessity called for it. Carol had been told she did a poor job managing house. They had always had very little to manage, given that Ed seemed to have a great deal of difficulty holding onto his money, but Carol did a poor job managing what they did have. No matter how much she washed and swept the little that they had, it was never clean enough. She was also a poor cook, according to Ed. He'd had little to offer her in the way of food to put in a pot, but she failed to do justice to any meal he did bring her the fixings for, on any given day. In addition, Carol had failed to give Ed any boy children so far. In fact, she'd failed to give him any children at all—save one sickly looking thing she threw in a fit of pain and blood that had never so much as drawn a breath.
All good things were meant to come to a man through his wife, and Carol, so Ed said, could give him nothing good.
In short, Carol deserved what she got—or, rather, didn't deserve anything, if the getting was a good thing—and she should be happy with anything. She needed to be punished for being such a waste, and her only hope, at all, was to try to learn from that punishment. She had, for the run of their marriage, accepted that.
Yet, here was a mountain man—the stuff legends and, sometimes, nightmares were made of—and he had taken Carol away from that. He had taken her away from Ed and from everything that Ed had ever done to her.
Beyond that, Daryl didn't seem aware of how bad a wife Carol had really been to Ed. He didn't seem to notice her shortcomings. He didn't tell her how ugly she was or screw his face up at her appearance. When she straightened his things and swept the camp, he seemed to appreciate the neatness of it. All things you wanted to keep, he believed, you should take care of, and so he appreciated her helping him to take care of his things. Few though his possessions were, he shared them openly with Carol. There was no dividing line of his and what she didn't deserve, but could be allowed to use. Daryl didn't insult her cooking or, finding something to his distaste, hit her or force her hand to touch the hot cast iron. He ate her food and praised her fishing. He let her eat, too, her fill, never insulting her body and telling her how it didn't look like the women he could have had for a far cheaper price than it costed to keep her. Daryl knew nothing of courses—still believing that Carol had hers upon her even now—but he saw them as no great failure on her part.
Daryl believed that she was a worthy mate for some man. He seemed to believe that, taking her down among good and worthy men, they would clamor to have her—each promising her greater and greater things in exchange for nothing more than the pussy that Ed told her was half-rancid and her failed offerings as a wife.
Daryl had never had a mate, but he seemed to believe Carol might be just what a mate ought to be.
And, somewhat ashamedly, Carol set her sights on being just that—exactly what Daryl thought his mate ought to be.
He couldn't do much worse for a mate, really, but he didn't seem to know that—and Carol couldn't possibly do any better.
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"You think we'll go much further?" Carol asked with her mouth semi-full of the good, thick stew they were eating. Daryl had gone looking to see if there was a town anywhere nearby and, finding that there was one in the making, he'd swapped some gold for what they had to trade. He replenished their supplies from what they'd used while wandering, and he'd come back with a bag of assorted vegetables he bought off a farmer's wife who was selling her goods in town to earn money for the store bought items that her family couldn't scratch out of the ground. Carol had been so excited to see the vegetables that she hadn't hesitated to make them the best stew she could put together, and Daryl swallowed it down fast enough that she'd had to warn him off bolting his food—lest he get sick and find he couldn't do the digesting work that needed to be done.
"I don't see no real need," Daryl said. "Looked all around. Water's good an' comin' strong outta the river. Ain't none of these lil' creeks gonna dry up no time soon even with the waters crawlin' with beaver like fleas. Damn heavy with yellow, too. That town ain't much to speak of yet—a mercantile that gets its goods right regular according to the owner, a livery and a small place for people to bed down that ain't got no roof an' can't weather-hard. There weren't more'n two painted ladies down there, but there was games—and with the yellow? They'll come on soon enough, I reckon."
Carol had lost track of days. She moved when Daryl moved. She stopped when he stopped. She slept when he told her to sleep, and when he left wherever they were holding up, she cooked and did washing up. Her courses had already come on her again—twice, now, since she'd come to know Daryl—and had left her again. Daryl was none the wiser, and apparently assumed that courses simply stayed until they up and decided to go, and there was no rhyme or reason behind their comings and goings. Carol had figured that it didn't hurt much to let him think that—and it might have stopped him from trying to find her a mate at any of the other two towns they'd passed up because Daryl didn't like the look or smell of things.
If Daryl didn't like something, Carol had decided that she surely didn't like it. She didn't even feel the need to ask for explanation beyond that which Daryl simply seemed to want to offer.
At the last town they'd passed by, Daryl had surprised Carol with some clothes. He'd noted hers were worn and, though he said he'd eventually have her sew her some buckskins for herself for the winter, there hadn't been time yet to make clothes. She'd expected another dress when he'd pulled the package from his bag, but he'd been rather proud to show her that he'd brought her a pair of store-bought pants, a shirt not entirely unlike his own shirts, some good-made socks, and a pair of boots to replace the ones she wore with holes clear through the bottom of them.
They were men's clothes—not fit for a woman—and Carol knew that. Daryl didn't seem to know that, though. He'd seen where her clothes caught on things as they moved about and he told her that he'd studied on her dress while she'd been cooking one night and it had occurred to him that it might—in getting too close to the flame of the fire—go right up and take her with it. The pants wouldn't catch like that, so he figured them to be the smarter article of clothing.
Carol knew the clothes weren't proper gifts for a woman, but Daryl saw only the practical side of things, and Carol did appreciate that for what it was worth. She wore the clothes he gave her with no objection, and cut her tattered clothing into rags for wrapping meat and keeping the blood from her courses at bay.
"We'll stay here?" Carol asked. "In this?"
The place they'd found was a cave—if you could call it that—but it wasn't a very nice one. Daryl looked around, and his expression said that he thought the same as her.
"Nah," he said. "This ain't nothin'. This is temporary. This won't hardly keep the rain off no better'n sleepin' up against a good rockface. We'll look for somethin' better tomorrow. Somethin' deeper."
"The farmer's wife in town—she say how long they've been living out here?" Carol asked.
"Nah," Daryl said. "Had the look, though. Prob'ly been out here for a while. Maybe even born out here."
"Are there other farms? Settlements? Did you see any?"
"I didn't go lookin' too much," Daryl said. "If they're there, the farms'll be spread out. Most the time it's take what'cha want. If it ain't staked, you can stake it. There weren't a lot of the shanties that usually crop up around the town—not just yet. But they'll come as more an' more get wind of the yellow an' come to settle the town." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry to say it, but it might mean you've got a while to wait for gettin' you a mate."
Carol swallowed back her amusement. She coughed quietly, pretending to strangle on her food, to cover it. She meant to figure out, soon, exactly how she might propose to Daryl that he consider a mate—and maybe that she had a particular one in mind for him—but she hadn't yet settled on what would be the best way to say such a thing.
"It's really no hurry," Carol said. "I've got patience, and a good mate's worth waiting on."
He looked at her like he hadn't considered that about mates before. He was thoughtful for a moment—she knew from the line on his forehead—and he nodded before sopping up what was left of his stew with one of the remaining biscuits she'd made.
"I reckon you could be right," he ceded.
Carol smiled to herself.
"I am," she said, getting up to take his bowl and spoon a bit more in there. "Here—you haven't had enough to fill your belly yet, and you'll sleep better if you get a mouthful more."
He smiled at her, grateful for the little bit of care.
"You take care of me," he said, half in awe and half-whispered to himself.
"I certainly try," Carol agreed. "Since—you take good care of me."
She caught his eyes. He held hers a moment. He considered that as much as he'd considered what she'd said before. She saw it on his face. He didn't say anything, though. He simply hummed to himself, went on about eating his food, and occasionally watched her out of the corner of his eye as he ate.
Carol knew he was watching her, because she was watching him, too.
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AN: I'll be putting this on my works for a while to make sure everyone sees it, so please ignore if you read multiple stories. I just wanted to let everyone know that it was somewhat brought to my attention that one reason people may not review, or may not review works often or past the first chapter, is that they feel unappreciated by not having their reviews responded to for each chapter and, therefore, don't really feel motivated to continue to read and/or review. I certainly don't want you to feel that way.
Admittedly, I come from the era of fic where we used to sort of consider (perhaps wrongfully) reviews as an acknowledgement that people were reading and wanted more of the story, since I have no other reliable way of knowing who is reading and cares about the story. I have always simply gone on to work on the next chapter. I have only responded to reviews that were personal and, of course, to personal messages. I, of course, read and appreciate every single review, but I have always simply put my time and energy into trying to write more for people to read and, hopefully, enjoy. I never meant to be dismissive of everyone.
I know that it feels bad to feel that what you do is unappreciated or unnoticed. Fic writers often feel that way with a lack of reviews. I wouldn't want other people to feel unappreciated. I absolutely appreciate when people review. It lets me know that people are reading and enjoying the story. It's a sign that I'm not wasting my time, and it gives me motivation to keep going. However, I don't want people to feel unappreciated either. So, I'm going to start doing my best to respond to your reviews. Please note that, the more you say to me, the more I'll obviously have to say in my response. (If you're one of those people who may find this awkward, please let me know, and I won't respond to you. My goal is not to make anyone uncomfortable.) Also, I appreciate your patience, as this will be something that does take time and, as such, it may take me a while to respond to them out of the time that I do have outside of work and adult life, since my free time and the energy that life leaves me is quite limited. I thank you for your patience and understanding.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please don't forget to let me know what you think.
